Underground
by AMBC
Summary: Set during WWII. While the Axis and Allied forces continue to fight each other, a group of countries form resistant movements to take back their lands from the Axis. Contains OCs.
1. Chapter 1

_During World War II, there were many resistant movements occurring in almost every country that was occupied by Germany and its allies. They used a variety of means to oppose German rule, ranging from non-cooperation, disinformation and guerrilla tactics to hiding crashed pilots and even to outright warfare and the recapturing of towns. For this reason, these resistant movements were sometimes referred to as 'the underground'..._

* * *

The guards pushed Montenegro into the cell, causing her to stumble on her feet. Turning around, she gave them one last glare of defiance before the doors were slammed closed. Once there was nothing but darkness, she looked around the cell.

It was dark, an obvious fact, there was a grimy smell that she couldn't make out and the walls were a tad dirty. Montenegro found this surprising, given that Germany was a neat-freak and would spend some of his time cleaning the cells. Her eyes traipsed to the square-shaped window in front of her, where it seems to be the only source of light in this room.

Montenegro tensed when she heard a low moan followed by a few coughs. Her eyes darted around the cell in search for the noise when she spotted someone slumped against the wall. Apparently, Montenegro was not alone in this cell.

Slowly, she walked towards the person and sat in front of them. They were dressed in rags of sort and they had blood stains. When that person looked up, Montenegro gasped. The person's face looked exhausted and deathly sick and their green eyes were sunken and lacking in brightness. When he looked up at her, he smiled a little.

'Montenegro? Is that you?'

'Poland...' She breathed, staring at her fellow nation in slight shock, 'What happened to you?'

The Pole sighed sadly, 'I've been here since the start of the war. After Germany invaded me...' His voice sounded hoarse, Montenegro noted. It lacked the usual flamboyant volume that Poland had. She also noted that he wasn't saying 'like' and 'totally' in his sentences.

He then coughed harshly. Montenegro became startled when bits of blood fell from his fingers, 'How...?'

'Guess you could say that being partitioned between Germany and Russia had a bigger toll on me than the other times I got partitioned...' Poland explained after he stopped coughing. He looked down at the floor and Montenegro noticed tears starting to appear in his eyes, 'This war is a nightmare...and I brought it all here. It's all my fault...'

'Poland, it's not your fault.' Montenegro said gently.

'But it is,' Poland retorted, 'I should have listened to France and England when I had the chance...I never should've used ponies as my army...' He voice cracked, 'And now everyone we know is a goner, because of me.'

'No, Feliks.' Montenegro whispered, taking his hand, 'The war isn't your fault. It was already beginning long after you were invaded. Besides, the start of war was really the fault of the Axis.'

Poland looked up at her, 'You've always been kind to all the nations, no matter what they have done to hurt others.'

'Our Lord always said to forgive our brethren, no matter how much they hurt you.' Montenegro explained.

'And he is right.' Poland closed his eyes, 'If we ever get out of here, I'm going to redeem myself. I'll play my part in fighting back against the Axis.'

'I know you will.' Said Montenegro.

* * *

Just outside the prison, where they were keeping Poland and Montenegro, grey eyes stared through a pair of binoculars at the building. Thankfully, it wasn't that big, but it was still surrounded by guards, mainly German, possibly a few Italians and Japanese. The owner of those eyes whispered something in Serbian as he lowered the binoculars.

He slowly peeked his head out from the bush he was hiding in to take a better look at the building, his black hair becoming more tousled from the gentle wind that was blowing. Not long after words, another head popped out from the bush. There was a cat atop his brown hair.

'Is this the place, adelfós?' He asked the other male, his Greek accent barely noticeable.

'Yes, this is where they're keeping him.' Serbia replied.

The Underground has arrived.

**My, my, we have a new story, it seems. I think this is the first time I've made a Hetalia story that centres around WWII. So yes, we all know about what Italy, America and what the main Axis and Allied forces were like during this era, but what about the other countries?**

**Well, this story will focus mainly on the other countries during the war, so expect a lot of familiar faces, and OCs.**

**That's all for now.**


	2. Chapter 2

_1941, a year before the __Underground mission..._

As a former explorer and fighter, Portugal had always been a nation who was the first into battle and the last to surrender. However, he was also a nation who preferred to observe others from the shadows before jumping to conclusions. It was this careful consideration that allowed Portugal to not get involve in the war, even if everyone else was asking him to help. It was due to his decisions that made him one of the 'lucky' ones.

Portugal was one of the few countries who managed to retain his neutrality, even when so many other countries lost theirs to the Axis. Despite this, there were times when he wished he could help in ending the war.

'Yo, Porty. You okay, dude.' The Portuguese snapped out of his musings when he saw the Allied Forces staring back at him. It was one of these rare occasions when he attended their meetings. Nevertheless, his boss insisted on sending Portugal to bring goods to the Allies, mainly to preserve the treaty between him and England.

'I'm fine, America. Just thinking over a few things...'

'Okay, cool, if you say so.' America stood up, 'Anyway, let's get this show on the road!'

'Who said you could lead this meeting?' Demanded China, standing up.

'Oui, I agree with China! I'm on strike! Who's with moi?' France asked as he too stood up. Russia smiled as he stood up as well.

_Are they serious? _Portugal thought in shock as he watched agape at America arguing with the other nations. Only England seemed to remain calm about this. Actually, he was merely watching them while sipping his tea.

'Aren't you going to do anything?' Portugal whispered urgently to his close friend, 'Almost the whole world is in the middle of a war, and they're acting like children.'

England sighed, 'I wish I could, but it'll only make things worse. Believe me, Ferdinand, when I say if you attend these meetings more often, you would get used to it quite fast.'

* * *

'Well, that was awkward in there.' Portugal muttered as he sipped his drink. After the slightly traumatic visit to the Allies, the first thing he decided to do was go back home and walk to one of the local bars and relax. Many of the visitors were currently listening to a woman doing the Fado on the stage.

Portugal smiled slightly at the music. The Fado always reminded him of his exploration days. Trying to take his mind off the memories, he reached out and grabbed the newspaper next to him that one of his citizens left behind. He read the headlines on the paper, and his heart immediately sank. Even if the headlines were in Portuguese, the nation knew exactly what it was English for: _Yugoslavia fell to Axis.__  
_

'Oh no...'

'Looks like another nation bit the dust.' One of his citizens remarked while looking over Portugal's shoulder, 'It's only a matter of time before we're next.'

'Don't say that.' Portugal hissed, 'We got this far without being invaded, so it's a sign that the Axis don't need us for their own gain.' He could tell that this citizen was very much intoxicated, so it was pointless even trying to talk some sense into him.

'What's the point in hoping?' The citizen whined, 'Even with the Americans on the good side now, the enemies are just gonna keep coming back at us, especially now that the resistance have a plan.'

Portugal perked up. He had heard of the many resistant groups in Europe, 'Plan? What plan?'

'I don't know if this is true myself, but there's a rumour going around Europe that the resistance up in Czechoslovakia have devised a top secret plan that could help change the course of the war.'

_A top secret plan..._ Portugal mused mentally while thinking. He wasn't sure himself if this citizen was telling the truth or not, but if this 'plan' was the key to ending the war, then maybe, just maybe...

Portugal was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the door burst open, and the music abruptly stopping. He spun around and braced himself, his fighting instincts kicking in. It could just be another disruptive local, but Portugal can't be too careful, especially in these dark times. What he saw made him stiffen in shock.

Stumbling into the bar were the countries that made up Yugoslavia, or rather, the remains of said nation, since there were only three of them. All of them looked as if they had just walked out of no-man's-land, as they all had deep cuts and bruises, and their clothes had wears and tears in them. Serbia was clutching his arm tightly and leaning against the door while Macedonia was trying to support a passed out Slovenia. Portugal felt as if his blood was freezing when his eyes fell on the Slovene.

'Somebody...' Serbia managed to say weakly, '...help us...' That was all he could utter before he crumpled to the floor. Screams of shock were heard as the Portuguese rushed over to the Balkan countries. Looking at the only conscious nation remaining, it seemed as if Macedonia was just about ready to pass out himself.

'Oh Deus. Somebody call for help! NOW!' Portugal yelled to the locals as he bent down and inspected the unconscious Serb.

* * *

Inside the basement of Portugal's house, the Portuguese was tending to the badly wounded Slovene. Although his face remained neutral, Portugal still couldn't get the image out of his mind. The image of Slovenia covered in dry blood while being supported by a scratched Macedonia. It was a good thing Spain wasn't here, or he would be making a huge fuss about this.

Serbia, now conscious again, was leaning against the wall with his arm in a sling while Macedonia was sitting in the nearest chair with a sleeping, and surprisingly unharmed Kosovo on his lap. It turned out the three had the chibi hiding in Macedonia's backpack so he wouldn't get hurt. A smart decision. Reckless but smart.

'So, is there a reason why I'm suddenly keeping three nation refugees, plus a province, in my house?' Portugal asked, breaking the three hours of silence that lingered on after they came here.

'Are you still neutral?' Macedonia asked.

'If I weren't, you all wouldn't be here.'

'Point taken. Have you read about the Axis invasion of our home?'

'I read the headlines. I don't need to read a whole newspaper to know what happened.'

'If that's the case, we won't go into too much detail.' Serbia replied darkly before sighing deeply, 'A few days ago, we all decided to pack whatever we can carry, and leave the country when it became apparent that Yugoslavia would fall to those Axis buffoons. We managed to escape without being noticed. In general everything was going okay, right up until we made the mistake of taking a shortcut through Italy. Somehow, our enemies knew that a bunch of nations would try and escape their clutches by going to Britain, so they organised an ambush as soon as we showed our faces. Croatia and the twins were captured, while the rest of us barely managed to escape with lives. And you know the rest, I'm sure.'

'Very.' Portugal nodded in agreement, 'But why go to me? My irmão is also neutral in the war.'

'Da, but unlike you, going to Spain would be like throwing your life away, given Španija's close connections to the Italy brothers.'

'I know what you mean.' Portugal grimaced. His younger brother's obsession with the Italy brothers, mainly Romano, was something to be concerned about, 'So you went to me because you knew I had no connections with countries from the Mediterranean.'

'And I knew you were the only neutral nation kind enough to help us.' Serbia added, 'We would've gone to Switzerland, but you know what he's like. Plus, Ireland and Sweden are too far away for us.'

'Si, I know. But what about Slovenia? How did he get like this?' Although Portugal knew that nations were immortal in general, and that they couldn't die unless they were dismantled, dissolved, you name it, he couldn't help but know the cause of the Slovene's current condition.

'Like I said, the bastards from the Axis knew we would escape, so they set up an ambush and immediately attacked as soon as we showed up.' Serbia continued, 'Slovenia was the unlucky one who took the most damage. For a moment, I was afraid he might die from his injuries, despite the fact that we nations are virtually immune to firepower.' He lowered his head, 'My only regret is that I wasn't able to keep everyone safe...'

'What about Montenegro? Was she captured as well?'

'That's actually the complicated part.' Macedonia chipped in, 'She got separated from us in the confusion, so we really don't know what became of her.' He looked at the grim Serb sadly, 'And poor Miloš is consumed with worry...'

'Macedonia?' Slovenia's weak voice was heard, 'Is that you?'

'Da, it's me.' Macedonia replied as he stood up and walked beside Portugal while cradling Kosovo, 'Serbia and Kosovo are here as well. We're all in Portugal's basement.'

'That's good.' Slovenia mumbled as he made a move to sit up.

'Don't move too much.' Macedonia said quickly, 'You lost a lot of blood, and I'm not sure how much longer it would take for your wounds to heal.'

Portugal looked the three nations over. It would take time for their injuries to heal. Compared to a regular human, a nations' injury heals rather quickly, but it usually takes a few hours for the effect to kick in. In the meantime, he had other matters to attend to...

'Well, if that's your story in a nutshell, then your arrival couldn't have come sooner.' Portugal said as he walked over to a map of Europe on the wall, 'I think that's three more volunteers. Four if you count a province.' He said to himself as he took out a pen and scribbled down their names on a piece of paper next to the map.

'Volunteers? For what?' Serbia half-asked, half-demanded, 'We didn't sign up for anything.'

'And neither did the various countries who were forced to leave their homes after they were invaded.' Portugal replied, pointing to the paper with their names on it, along with several other names of European countries, 'But they don't know that yet. At least not until they come here.'

'Wait, you mean you're going to keep invaded nations in your house?' Slovenia asked in disbelief, 'That's suicide! I thought you were neutral in the war.'

'I _am_ neutral in this war.' Portugal replied calmly, 'But you three and the others aren't, not anymore. You all lost your neutrality the second you were invaded.' He turned to face them, 'And I have a feeling that the Allies won't be of much help.'

'Well, what did you expect?' Serbia said bitterly, 'The fate of the world is depending on an egotist, a cynic, a hermit, a sociopath, and a pervert.'

'Si, I know. And the worse part is everyone's acting like Germany's boss has already won.'

'Maybe he has.' Slovenia said grimly, 'He pretty much has virtually all of Europe under his control.'

'Which is exactly why I'm taking matters into my own hands through an elite group of nation resistant fighters.'

'Resistant fighters?'

'What are you up to, PortugaliJa?' Macedonia asked suspiciously.

'There's a rumour going around Europe that resistant movements from Czechoslovakia have created a plan that could effect the war in a big way.' Portugal explained, 'I want to know if the plan is real or not.' He turned to look at Serbia, 'Miloš, I know it's not easy for you to work alongside others, but I could really need your help in this. It will be hard, but this plan could be the key to liberating your home, along with many others.'

Serbia looked down and pondered this. Portugal's ideas never made much sense but they always ended in a positive light. And Serbia had always been a country who didn't like to be held back or be left a prisoner. He also wanted to know something first, 'If I help, will you be able to locate Montenegro?'

Portugal hesitated before answering, '...I can try, but it will take time. Plus I will need everyone else in order the locate the whereabouts of one of your housemates.'

'...Okay.' Serbia replied wearily, 'As long as you mean that, I'll join.'

'Excelente! I knew I could count on you.'

'Whatever. Just tell us what we need to do.'

'Right.' Portugal turned to the map, 'Well, for starters we need to find the other nations who were invaded by Germany. I've sent an unwitting agent to help Denmark and Norway, so they're taken care of. I've been thinking of recruiting Belgium and her brothers first after you three are healed up, and then moving on to find Greece and Albania.'

Serbia perked up, 'Greece? He was invaded too?!'

'Si, like I said, these are dark times.' Portugal replied without turning away from the map, 'But now that we have our teammates chosen, this is the beginning. The beginning of the Underground.'

* * *

_Somewhere in London..._

'This isn't so bad.' Faroe said as he dusted the floor, 'I know my stay in England is only temporary, but it's a lot nicer than living with Denmark.'

'So, is that like, another way of saying you're like, Denmark's lackey or something?' Hong Kong asked.

'No, I'm not a lackey, I'm just forced to live with him as a colony. Like you.' Just then, he heard one of the communication devices buzzing, 'Hold on. I think we're getting a message...'

_'-Don't know anyone will *zzt* They are held *zzt* Repeat, Denmark and Norway are their prisoners. *zzt* Greenland *zzt* send help!*zzzt* _The signal went dead after that.

Faroe frowned and tapped the device, 'Something's wrong. I think this intended for me...'

'So what was like, that all about?'

Faroe grimaced. He knew that message was for him, and it said something about Greenland needing help. And two of the Nordic 5 being held prisoner. Faroe didn't know what to do in general. In spite of his faults, Denmark truly cared about the safety of everyone he knew. Which was why he sent Faroe and Iceland to England for their protection, although Iceland was later taken to America after Germany tried and failed to invade Britain. In other words, returning to the Nordic region would be like endangering his own life.

However, he was a Nordic himself. They needed his help, and it was his duty to help them, even if it was a do or die approach. Finally making a decision, Faroe raced over to his room to put on his military uniform.

'Where are you like, going?'

'I'm going out to help a few friends.' Faroe said quickly as he walked towards the front door, 'I won't tell England about the firecrackers in his wardrobe if you don't tell him where I'm headed.'

'You like, got yourself a deal.'


End file.
